


How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days

by Raissassampaio



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on the movie, F/M, how to lose a guy in 10 days, jily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raissassampaio/pseuds/Raissassampaio
Summary: James Potter, broom designer and completely out of practice when it comes to dating, makes a bet that he can get a woman to fall in love with him in 10 days to land an account. Lily Evans, resident "How To" girl at Witch Weekly, is assigned an article on "How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Find us collectively on tumblr as @the-castle-crew, and separately as @raissassampaio and @alrightginger!  
> Please don't forget to leave a comment!

Witch Weekly’s building sat on a street that crossed the Diagon Alley, overlooking a store of Quidditch supplies. The giant window on Rita Skeeter’s office made it so that her involuntary backdrop was filled with the latest models of brooms and the Quaffles with the softest leather. Lily always observed them every time she sat on the uncomfortable chair, waiting for a verdict.

She watched anxiously as her boss’ long fingernails drummed on the parchment sheet, scratching the words she had carefully written. Rita’s nails were always the same colour as her glasses, which she kept fidgeting with as she read Lily’s article. Today, they were bright pink.

“Look, Lily, dear…” Rita started, giving Lily a tight-lipped smile that did nothing to warm her features, her deep-set eyes looking at the younger woman with impatience. “You know that I respect your work as journalist. You are a gifted writer, I have told you that, and a success with our readers,” she continued, picking up the pieces of parchment scattered at her desk that Lily had handed to her moments before, always foolishly hoping that maybe,  _ this time _ , Rita would consider publishing them. “But I have already explained to you. Our readers here at Witch Weekly are not interested in the sort of content you want to write about,” Rita finished, just as someone who gives the same speech over and over, and handed over the stack of parchment to Lily.

“But what about this one, though?” Lily asked, frantically pulling a piece of parchment from the stack and putting it back on the table in front of Skeeter. “It’s about Fashion!”

Rita frowned and picked up the parchment, skimming through it quickly.

“It’s about the meaning behind the details in Wizarding robes and their similarities to Muggle clothing,” Rita said.

“Well, yes,” answered Lily. “Don’t you think it’s interesting?”

“I think, as I have said before, that our readers  _ don’t care. _ They just want to know what’s on trend,” Rita sighed. “Now, can I trust you to get back to writing your new column, Lily dear?”

“Of course,” Lily answered, casting her eyes down as she stood up, feeling defeated once again.

As soon as she stepped out of Skeeter’s office, Marlene was waiting for her just outside the door, arms crossed as her tall frame leaned against the wall.

“So…?” Marlene asked.

“No luck. Again,” Lily answered. “Witch Weekly readers are not interested in any journalistic pieces about politics, society, economy, education, Wizarding vs. Muggle issues, or even culture. At least according to Skeeter, of course.”

“Of course!” Marlene repeated as she rolled her eyes, her disdain for their boss clear in her tone of voice.

“But you didn’t wait outside the office just to see my articles get rejected again. So what’s going on?” Lily asked, knowing her friend had an ulterior motive for seeking her out like that.

Marlene made a face, biting her bottom lip. Guilty as charged. “Sorry, darling,” she admitted it, and Lily smiled and nodded for her to continue. “It’s Alice. I think it was that Elian bloke? You’re the only that knows how to deal with her properly when she’s like this.”

Lily nodded again, grabbing Marlene’s hand and walking purposefully. “Men’s room, right?”

“Yeah,” Marlene answered, her voice slightly out of breath as both women’s heels clacked noisily on the floor.

Witch Weakly hadn’t had a male reporter in the last four years, which turned the men’s bathroom into a lounging area for females in crisis. Lily and Marlene both had only used the space once - Lily after getting a  rejection letter from a newspaper, and Marlene after getting into a fight with an old colleague - but sadly, Alice was a frequent presence in the little room.

When Lily and Marlene arrived at the door, they found Alice sitting in a comfortable chair, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the sun rays that entered through the small window and upturned chin, her wand hand raised high as she conjured up plates and either broke them with a silent  _ Bombarda _ or threw them at the green tiled wall. 

“Oh, hi, Lily dear!” She said, smiling softly when she noticed the two women at the door. “I see Marley went to get you. So silly. Just cause I am letting off some steam here. I told her not to bother you at your big meeting!”

“It wasn’t a big meeting, Al. Just the same old stuff, don’t worry. Marlene only called me cause she was worried about you. What happened?” Lily asked.

“Oh,  _ nothing _ , really…” answered Alice, but then she hurled another plate at the wall. Lily sent a look Marlene’s way.

“Alice, it’s okay, darling. You can tell us,” Marlene assured her, looking her in the eyes as Lily ran her hand in her friend’s pixie’s locks in a soothing manner. 

“I just thought we were such a good couple! I thought we were doing so well!” Alice started, burying her face in Marlene’s stomach. “Then…  _ ‘too bloody domineering, won’t give me space, thinks she’s so smart and powerful, redecorating my house.’  _ \- All I did was buy him a Wiggentree, by the way!”

“How long were you two together?” Marlene asked? 

“Around three weeks?”

“Oh,” Marlene said.

_ “What?”  _ Alice snapped.

“I think what Marlene meant is that not all men can be this intense early in the relationship? I know it’s stupid, sweetheart, but it scares them,” Lily tried to explain.

“Oh yeah, I scare them away alright!” Alice swallowed bitterly.

“No, Al, that’s not what I meant! You’re amazing! Maybe you’re just not showing yourself in the best way. If these guys really knew you, not one of them would be able to stay away,” Lily said.

“You’re saying that because no guy would ever stay away from you,” Alice replied pointedly. “I mean, look at you!”she added, jabbing her chin at Lily’s face and following the trail down her body.

“What are you talking about? You’re so beautiful! If we weren’t like sisters, I’d definitely date you,” Lily answered, earning a soft laugh from Alice.

“Yep, me too,” agreed Marlene.

“Like I said, it’s all just silly things. If it happened to me, you can bet those guys wouldn’t be with me either. And they’re stupid anyhow,” Lily continued.

“Crisis averted?” Marlene asked.

“Yeah, okay,” Alice smiled.

“Yay!” Marlene celebrated. “Great, cause we have the staff meeting in ten.”

* * *

 

 

James wasn’t sure if he’d rather take a stunning spell from Sirius for commandeering his precious bike that morning, or from his own wand for having to listen to  _ Bertha Jorkins  _ drone on and on about the latest Witch Weekly article.

When he had taken the job at Cuffe and Company, a broomstick designing and manufacturing corporation, he strongly suspected that Barnabas Cuffe (the man who took over the company years before after his father had passed) had purposely shoved Bertha in the back of the office on the day of his interview, for she was the only con James could possibly think of for working for the establishment. 

“- it’s important that we hit  _ all  _ demographics. Quidditch isn’t solely for the male gender, and we should make sure that we are advertising correctly to our female audience as well as the male when it comes to our brooms.”

“And  _ Witch Weekly  _ is going to help us do that?” 

James knew better than to engage -  _ ought  _ to have known better than to engage - but he couldn’t take a magazine seriously that had the title  _ 10 Spells To Get Your Man Hot and Bothered  _  practically glaring at him. 

_ “Yes,  _ James,” sighed Bertha. She was _ always _ doing that. Sighing after she said his name as though he were an ignorant child. “Women are  _ different.  _ More  _ complex -” _

“About  _ Quidditch?” _

“About  _ everything.  _ And you don’t know the correct way to advertise to them, the correct way to  _ target them - “ _

_ “It’s Quidditch!” _

“It’s the  _ Holyhead Harpies,”  _ countered Bertha, popping him on the nose with the rolled up magazine as though he were a dog. James thought fleetingly that it smelled strongly of flowery perfume, causing his eyes to water slightly. “The only  _ all witch  _ Quidditch team in the league.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s got  _ everything  _ to do with it.”

James inwardly groaned, his features twisting and scowling in a way only  _ Bertha Jorkins  _ could accomplish. Ever since they had landed the Holyhead Harpies’ account, the witch had gone practically bonkers at the thought of heading the project. Insisting that she was the  _ only one  _ with the capability to do so, being as she was the  _ only _ woman at Cuffe and Company. James wondered, perhaps ignorantly so, what  _ gender  _ could possibly have to do with something as universal as Quidditch.

“Like I was  _ saying -  _ women are different. The way we straddle a broom, the way we take to the air, the way we  _ fly  _ is different.”

_ “How?” _

“You wouldn’t understand,” sighed Bertha dramatically, though James suspected she herself didn’t fully understand. “You aren’t well versed when it comes to women.”

“I’m  _ plenty  _ versed when it comes to women.”

Bertha arched a perfectly crafted eyebrow up at him. “When’s the last time you went on a date, James? You’re always stuck in here. Designing and testing brooms into the early hours of the morning.”

“Wouldn’t that make me  _ more  _ qualified to head this account?”

“That makes you qualified in  _ brooms,”  _ smirked Bertha. She shook her head up at him as his hand twitched to run itself through his hair in frustration. _ “Not  _ in women.”

James wanted to ask if there was really a difference, but thought better of it as he took in the rolled up magazine in her right hand. Bertha may be rubbish with a wand, but she had a mean Beaters arm. 

“This is  _ mad,”  _ he said instead.  _ “Completely mad!” _

Bertha grinned, twisting a blonde curl around her finger. “ _ Women  _ are mad. In a beautiful sort of way and you simply wouldn’t understand. We have our meeting with Cuffe soon. Leave the account to me.”

* * *

 

All the reporters had to help each other up the floating seats in the circular meeting room, the taller girls lending a hand to their shorter colleagues. They were terribly inconvenient, these seats, but Rita thought they added to the  _ambiance_ , so there was no getting rid of them.

“Alright, dears. Who’d like to start?” Rita prompted, starting the meeting. A bouncy girl with dirty-blonde hair raised her hand high in the air, causing Lily, Alice, and Marlene to trade looks and stifle a laughter.

“Oh, lovely, miss Talkalot! Please, begin,” the older witch nodded, giving the other permission to talk.

“We’ve got some wonderful articles this week!” Lucinda Talkalot, features editor and the biggest kiss-arse Lily knew started talking. “We have one about a facemask potion that promises to reduce 10 years of your face! It’s very upbeat. There’s an interview with that amazing author, Gilderoy Lockhart. He’s such an upbeat person, and _ so dreamy! _ There’s also one about how household  spells can go horribly wrong and cause permanent damage if you don’t perform them correctly. It’s a bit scary, but surprisingly upbeat!” 

“Can’t wait to read  _ that _ ,” mocked Alice in a whisper.

“Personally, I am  _ dreaming  _ of reading Gilderoy’s interview! Lucky Lucinda!” teased Marlene.

“What about you, Allie dear?” Skeeter asked.

“Sorry?” Alice asked dumbly, realizing they must have missed her wrapping things up with Talkalot in their teasing.

“Your story this week? For the fitness session?” Rita said.

“Oh, I-I haven’t-” Alice fumbled.

“Alice has had some romantic problems,” Lily intervened. She hated to expose her friend’s private life like that, but she knew it was the only thing Rita would accept.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Allie dear! But you know what, you can use it! Write about  _ that!” _ Rita enthusiastically proposed.

“Rita, I’m sorry. I can’t,” Alice replied, shaking her head.

“Well, that’s okay, I understand” said Rita, pushing her platinum blonde hair away from her face and crossing her legs. “Who wants to write about Alice’s love life?” she continued, promoting Lucinda Talkalot to raise her hand even more enthusiastically than the first time.

“I’ll stun that woman someday, I swear,” Marlene uttered under her breath, just as Lily shouted  _ “I’ll do it!” _ causing all the heads to turn to her.

“I’ll kind of do it. I mean, let’s look at Alice. She’s a smart, funny, talented witch. Very beautiful. But she’s always having trouble with men, why is that? We all make silly mistakes when dating that scare other people off, our readers surely do too - _ that’s  _ what I’ll write about. It’ll be a guiding hand. Sort of a dating manual, but backwards,” Lily explained. The idea had come to her suddenly as she was speaking, and she embraced it with all her heart. It was a welcome reprieve from all the mind-numbing  _ How to Curl Your Hair with 10 Different Spells  _ articles she usually had to write, and exactly the sort of thing her boss would love. Maybe, _ just maybe _ , if she played this right, she could get into Rita’s good graces and one or two steps closer to writing what she wanted.

“What  _ not _ to do,” Rita added, with a glint in her green eyes. For the first time, she seemed absolutely ecstatic about an idea Lily pitched her.

“Yes! Just the basic stuff you shouldn’t do at the start of a relationship!”

“Would you be dating someone in real time? I think it’s important for us to actually test these theories…” Rita asked, with a hint of challenge in her voice and Lily instantly felt like rising to it. It was only ten days, she would drive him crazy before he ever felt anything close to attraction for her.

“Absolutely! I could start by dating a guy and then drive him away, but only using the classic mistakes most witches make early in the relationship,” Lily said.

“How to lose a wizard in ten days!” her boss announced gleefully with a big hand gesture, as if showing a big sign.

“Yeah, hm, sorry, why ten days?” Lily asked.

“Well, a week is too short and we go to press at eleven,” Rita answered. “What about you, Claire, tell us what you’ve got,” she continued, closing the subject and sealing Lily’s (and some poor wizard’s)  fate for the next ten days.

“Was that okay?” Lily whispered to Alice.

“Are you kidding me?”her friend answered. “We are gonna have so much fun.”

* * *

 

“- let me get this straight,  _ she  _ wants to take the lead? Bertha?  _ Bertha Jorkins?  _ Who can’t even get a broom off the ground?”

“Yes, Sirius.”

“Who can’t even  _ mount  _ a broom because she’s always wearing a pencil skirt underneath her robes?”

_ “Yes,  _ Sirius.”

“Who only got hired here because her legs are longer than a broomstick?”

_ “Yes, Sirius.” _

“Who can’t even -”

“ _ Yes, Sirius!” _

James paused, the snitch that he was playing with moments ago fluttering inches in front of his face as he pocketed his hands in his robes. Annoyed and a bit more than put off about the whole situation, he had immediately dragged Sirius into his office with him to formulate a plan. Or perhaps a prank. But the only person more dramatic than James himself was  _ Sirius Black.  _

“Well, what are we going to do?” huffed Sirius. “This is a big account.  _ Huge.  _ We can’t lose it to  _ Jorkins.” _

“I  _ know that,  _ Sirius.” James groaned, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We need a plan. Or - or  _ something.” _

“I have a couple Dungbombs in my desk.”

“That could wor-  _ no, no!  _ We need to actually be  _ smart  _ about this and find a way to get that account.”

Sirius snorted. “ _ Smart?  _ Us? I don’t normally associate that word with us.”

“We’re  _ plenty  _ smart-“

“Clever, conniving, ambitious-“

“You’re just describing it another way!”

_ “Handsome,”  _ said Sirius before his eyes flicked quickly over James. “Well,  _ one  _ of us at least.”

“How are you my best mate? I could do so much better.” 

Sirius grinned. “ _ Could  _ you though?”

“Have you been taking a page out of Jorkin’s book?” James eyes narrowed. And then they brightened. “Maybe we  _ should  _ take a page out of her book.”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. “What are you on about, Potter?”

“How long do we have until the meeting?”

“About an hour.”

“Perfect, hand me some parchment and a quill.” James rubbed his hands together, something he often did before he turned chaos to creation. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Dungbombs later?” asked Sirius hopefully.

“Dungbombs later,” agreed James with a grin. 

* * *

The meeting for the Harpies’ account was well underway by the time James burst into Cuffe’s office with enough force to cause a portrait of Cuffe Senior to crash to the floor, cursing all the while.

James’ hands, all the way up to his forearms were smudged with ink from leaning over his desk. Something that often happened when he suffered from a breakthrough. He called it suffering because he had charmed his ink not to disappear after a prank gone wrong with Sirius during the  _ broom brigade of 2007,  _ and he hadn’t been able to produce a counter charm leading to tons of previous good shirts being tossed out. 

The ink would fade with time, but no matter how hard James scrubbed his body down each night a faint black tint would remain.

“Whoops,” he cringed, looking down at the doorknob that was smudged with ink. “Sorry about that. It’ll come off.”

It wasn’t a  _ total  _ lie. It would. As soon as James could put down broom designing for a spare second to figure out the counter charm. 

“Never mind that,” coughed Cuffe, though he eyed the smear with disdain. “Sit, sit! Both of you! The meeting started ten minutes ago! Bertha was just telling me about an idea she had.”

James grinned, the motion of it spreading upwards and tickling his eyes. “Was she?”

He was late.

But he wasn’t out of the game.

“Yes,  _ she _ was,” said Jorkins, her eyes cutting to the parchment in James’ hand and narrowing. “I was just telling Mr. Cuffe how as the  _ only female  _ staff member at Cuffe and Company, the Harpies would likely be delighted to have a fellow female in charge of their brooms for the next Quidditch season.”

“Oh really?” asked James. The familiar feeling of incredibly stupid Gryffindor bravery was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst through at any moment. “So what was your idea then?”

“That - that  _ was  _ my idea,” said Jorkins, though she turned to look at Cuffe as if she wasn’t sure. “That I would lead the account with my design team.”

“Oh, brilliant. So I haven’t missed too much then.”

Jorkins made a sound akin to a snarl that caused her features to twist and curl, the nails on her fingers digging into the silk fabric of her robes and James suspected they had to be a bit painful since she had just gotten them done. They looked a bit sharp, being waved underneath his nose as they frequently were.  

“Down boy,” scolded Cuffe, though a laugh followed, booming and bouncing around on the walls of his office. “Bertha has a fine point. The Harpies may be more comfortable with a woman taking the lead, but let’s hear what you’ve got to say, Potter.”

“It’s not so much what I have to  _ say  _ as what I have to  _ show  _ you,” said James, handing over the parchment to Cuffe. His leg was jiggling with such force that it was vibrating his seat. 

“What’s this?” Cuffe’s interest was peaked. James could tell by the way he stroked his beard and leaned against his desk, taking the glasses from the top of his head and adjusting them in front of his eyes for a better look. 

Jorkins’ head craned painfully around to try to catch a glance, her long neck doing nothing to support her. 

“It’s a broom,” said James. 

Cuffe snorted. “ _ Clearly.  _ I can see that, boy. But tell me about her.”

“She doesn’t have a name just yet,” said James, lifting himself up to stand by Cuffe. His fingers traced the features. “She’s sleek,  _ slimmer  _ that any model we’ve ever had before. Able to be easily moved into any dive or round any curve that’s thrown at her. The rest for the rider’s feet sits down lower than any model I’ve ever seen so that the rider is able to lean down closer to the broom, guiding every movement with precision and ensuring that we aren’t sacrificing safety for speed.”

Cuffe made a sound of approval and James grinned as it echoed around the walls and rattles around in his head. 

“She’s got a dip just  _ here,”  _ James pressed on, allowing his finger to dip for effect “on the broomhandle to allow for a more effective grip while leaning so low. The handle itself is made of mahogany, while the twigs are hazel.”

“Well need to work on her speed charms,” considered Cuffe. He was teetering. The slightest little  _ push _ was all James needed. Jorkins’ face was bright red. “She’s gotta have momentum behind all that glamour.” 

“She’ll have speed,” said James. “No doubt about that. She’ll be unbeatable.”

“She sure is a beauty,” admired Cuffe. 

“She’s pretty  _ and  _ effective. Just like the Harpies.”

Seemingly unable to take it anymore, Jorkins let out a howl that caused both men in the room to jump. Standing so quickly that she sent her chair toppling over, she rounded on James.

“You!” She pointed her finger accusingly, waggling in right in front of James’ nose as he crossed his eyes at a now chipped nail and smirked. “What do  _ you  _ know about women and what they want?”

“Well, when it comes to  _ Quidditch,”  _ said James, smuggly, “I assume everyone has the same goal in mind.  _ To win.” _

“Do you think that’s  _ all  _ women care about? The Harpies can win  _ without  _ the latest model broom-”

“Isn’t our job  _ to  _ design them the latest model broom?”

“- because they have  _ pure talent.  _ Have you actually  _ talked  _ to a woman about this broom?”

“Well, no. I was too busy  _ designing  _ it.” James noticed Cuffe’s gaze turn towards Jorkins who noticed it as well as she gestured towards James with an angry arm while looking at the older man as if to say,  _ see!  _

_ Teeter, teeter _ . 

James felt the sale tilt.

“No  _ actual  _ woman’s input,” huffed Jorkins. “How very  _ shocking.  _ When’s the last time you actually talked a woman, James?”

“I  _ talk  _ to women!”

_ “Your mother  _ doesn’t count!”

“Alright, alright,” boomed Cuffe. He stretched his arms out between the two of them, James’ nameless broom fluttering in front of his face. “You  _ both  _ have a point. James, this is a fine broom, but Bertha is right. You ought to get a woman’s opinion on it -“

Jorkins smirked triumphantly.  _ “Exactly!  _ And I would be more than happy to -“

“Now, hold on there Bertha.” Cuffe took another look at the parchment. One last beard stroke. “I think James might benefit from a woman’s opinion, but a woman on the  _ outside,  _ you see.”

_ “The outside-“ _

_ “The outside-“ _

James and Jorkins glared at each other for voicing the same thought at the same time. Though perhaps two different branches of it. Jorkins no doubt was furious at being cast aside, and James wasn’t sure if he actually  _ knew  _ any women outside of Jorkins and his mother. Not that he would ever tell Jorkins that.

“I don’t think you would be a fair eye, Bertha my dear,” said Cuffe. He handed the parchment back to James, who took it in near defeat. “So here’s my proposal. We don’t have to put this broom into design until after Christmas. Potter, I want you to go out and find a woman, an  _ opinionated  _ woman when it comes to Quidditch, and I want to see her alongside of you at our annual Christmas party-“

James’ eyes went wide. “But -“

“I want to hear  _ her  _ opinion on this broom.”

“Our Christmas party is in ten days!”

“That’s plenty of time to find a woman,” said Cuffe, smacking James across the back and nearly causing him to stumble forward. “Plenty of time, my boy! Now off! Both of you! I have my morning afternoon meeting coming up.”

James and Jorkins walked out, silent and matching each other’s paces, the clicking of Jorkin’s heels the only sound down the corridor. Cuffe’s afternoon  _ meeting  _ was with the loo, otherwise James was certain Jorkins would have had more to say on the whole matter. They were nearly to their adjacent offices when she rounded on him.

“You think you’re so  _ clever,”  _ she sneered. “Don’t you, Potter?”

“When it comes to Quidditch,  _ yes.” _

James folded the parchment, placing it along with his hands in his pockets as Jorkins craned her neck upward at him. 

“Cuffe made a deal with you, but I have one of my own.”

“And what would that be?”

“This girl - this mysterious girl that you’re somehow going to find in ten days. When you bring her to the party, I want you to bring her as  _ your date.” _

James quirked an eyebrow. Easy enough. “Okay? Done. Deal.”

“That’s not all. When she comes, I want to  _ see it.” _

“See what?” 

“The  _ spark.  _ The look in her eyes.” Jorkins huffed when James still didn’t understand.  _ “Love,  _ Potter. I want you to make her fall in love with you.”

James scoffed. “How in the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Do it.  _ Make  _ it happen. And I’ll hand the account over to you.”

Jorkins held her hand out to James as an offering and James’ own fingers twitched to take it. The thought of toying with a woman’s feelings conflicting with his desire to design a broom used for professional Quidditch.

Jorkins seemed to sense his hesitation and her lips twisted into a smirk. 

“Do it,” she said. “Make this girl fall in love with you and the Harpies account is yours.  _ Yours.  _ Imagine -  _ your broom  _ used by one of the league's top Quidditch teams.”

James was certain that he heard an audible  _ snap  _ inside his head at her words and then next thing he knew he was gripping Jorkin’s hand tightly. “Deal.”

It wasn’t until the had shaken on it, Jorkins digging her nails into James’ palm with such force that he felt tears prickling at his eyes, that he realized what he had just done. 

It wasn’t an Unbreakable Vow, but as James watched Jorkins disappear into her office, stopping to smirk at him before she shut the door fully, he knew that this bet would have similar repercussions if lost. 

James ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it as he stepped into his office where he found a very bored looking Sirius Black throwing a Quaffle around.

“Well,” inquired Sirius when he noticed James. The Quaffle, forgotten by his mate, crashed unceremoniously onto James’ desk, knocking over a photograph of James’ Quidditch days at Hogwarts. “How did it go?”

“The good news is we’re still in the game,” sighed James. “The bad news is that the rules have drastically changed.”

* * *

 

“Well, fuck,” Marlene pronounced eloquently, shamelessly looking at Lily’s cleavage.

“I know!” agreed Alice. “I told her she should let them out more.”

“Hello to you too, Marley,” Lily said, rolling her eyes and stealing a sip of Marlene’s butterbeer. The Three Broomsticks was packed tonight, magical bodies with mundane thoughts on a common, busy Friday night. 

“I just figured that since I’m going to spend ten days with this bloke, I should make sure he’s fit,” she pointed out, adjusting the strap of her dress.

“I also managed to convince her not to fly here tonight, which means her hair isn’t a tangled mess!” Alice added.

“Ladies!” interrupted a young man from behind the counter. “You two finally arrived. I was beginning to think Marlene here was flying solo tonight.”

“Benjy!” Lily smiled, bending over the counter to kiss him quickly on the cheek. As Alice did the same, Marlene answered with a quick wave “Oh please, Benjy. As if I would need to drink alone. We’re here for Lily tonight. Completely focused on a mission.”

“Is that so? Do tell,” asked the young wizard.

“Oh Merlin…” Lily grumbled.

“The usual first, please, Benjy,” Alice asked sweetly. “We need to be prepared.”

“Coming right up!”

* * *

When Sirius had first brought up the idea of going to the Three Broomsticks to both celebrate getting the account early with a few drinks while also scouting for a woman for James to woo, James had outright refused.  

He felt as though they were jinxing themselves since they hadn’t even landed the account just yet, and he had a horrible headache from dealing with  _ Jorkins _ all day. 

They had a war waging daily between them, he and Bertha Jorkins did. Each day that he walked out of the office, he had a mental tick mark that he placed in either his box or hers. 

And today he wasn’t honestly sure  _ who  _ had won between the two of them. 

She certainly hadn’t landed the account, but then again, neither had he. 

But more than that - more than the account, more than Jorkins, more than the blasted  _ deal  _ he had going with  _ both _ Cuffe and Jorkins - James was afraid to go out. 

Because Jorkins was right about one thing. 

He simply wasn’t well versed when it came to women, and he wasn’t sure that he  _ wanted _ to be well versed in the type of women that hung out at the Three Broomsticks on a Friday night. 

But as he adjusted his glasses, flattened out his red v-neck shirt for the hundredth, and patted the pocket of his jeans where the design of his nameless broom rested, he knew that he had no real choice in the matter. 

“Ready?” asked Sirius, leaning against the door frame with a sort of ease that James could never master. He was wearing a leather jacket, and James thought he looked like a bit of an arse in it. “It’s honestly not going to get any better the longer you look.”

“Ready,” sighed James, running his hand through his hair.

* * *

“What about the one on the end of the counter?” pointed Alice.

“Oh, cute,” agreed Lily.

“And  _ married,” _ thwarted Benjy. “How about green shirt over there?”

“Meh. He’s okay looking. Terrible fashion sense though. And very loud. Not very polite.”

“What about the blond one on the big table there?”Alice proposed again, laughing this time.

“Now you’re just fucking with me. Which is terribly rude, cause I’m doing this for  _ you, _ Al.”

“Spectacles,” said Marlene, bumping Lily on her shoulder, a little smirk in her face.

Lily blinked. “Sorry?”

“Spectacles, _I-just-had-sex-hair_ , red t-shirt on that booth by the wall. Next to _I’m-hot-and-I-know-it,_ _wears-a-leather-jacket-inside_ dude. You’re welcome.”

Lily's eyes got a bit wider, which was how Marlene knew she had gotten it right this time. The redhead took a sip of her Firewhiskey, tasting it in her mouth and letting it burn as she looked at the guy in red shirt.

“Yeah, he's fit.”

“Hes exactly your type!” said Alice excitedly. “What do we know about him, Benjy?” 

“Well, other than the fact that he's fit and has a fit friend? Nothing.”

“Really? You always have the scoop on everyone that comes here,” Marlene said.

“I've never seen him here before.” Benjy shrugged, before turning towards Lily with a hint of a dare in his tone. "Guess Lily will just have to walk up to his booth and find it all out on her own, won't she?” 

“What? You think I won't?” Lily answered, tilting her chin up in defiance.

“He's looking right at you, too,” Alice added.

"He's _ eye-fucking _ you, that's more accurate," corrected Marlene. "You really should go over there."

Lily lifted her glass, changing her weight from one leg to another as she contemplated her options. Men didn't come fitter than this very often. He was  _ just _ her type. And judging by the way he was looking right at her, she was  _ his  _ type too.

"Alright," she said, turning towards her friends and running a hand over her body as she smoothed her dress. "Wish me luck," she asked, as she downed the last sip of her whiskey and walked towards the booth by the wall.

* * *

James wondered if, perhaps, his sanity ought to be questioned, because there he sat in a booth across from Sirius, cursing something as simple as a red t-shirt. 

But really,  _ honestly,  _ when the most gorgeous bird you’ve ever seen in your life approaches you wearing the tightest dress you’ve ever seen, a bloke really ought to be wearing something nicer than a random t-shirt he picked up off the floor without much thought. 

The last time he came to the Three Broomsticks girls like  _ that  _ hadn’t been hanging around at well after midnight. He had noticed her right away, her hair catching his eye first. It was the deepest red he had ever seen, and when she flicked it over her shoulder it fell back into place perfectly, making James feel as though he was watching one of those slow motion scenes in an old muggle movie his mum was obsessed with. 

But when she had turned towards him -  _ fully  _ towards him - he felt as though he had suffered from a lightning strike. Which, honestly, would explain his hair. But his awful mop had been like that long before she turned her eyes on him. Eyes as green as he had ever seen. 

And he watched, struck completely dumb, as her red painted lips parted slightly, wishing desperately that he had wrestled that damned jacket off of Sirius before they left the house so he could look more like James Dean rather than  _ James-I- own-just-this-one-shirt-Potter.  _

But then she had started crossing the distance of the bar, closer towards him, and he couldn’t focus on anything other than how he had never really appreciated that a woman’s legs could be longer than a broomstick. 

He could vaguely hear Sirius calling his name, but he appeared to have tunnel vision, only able to see the red head coming closer to him. 

She arrived quicker than he could avert his eyes from her legs, sliding into the seat next to him, and smelling nothing like the magazine Jorkins had smacked him in the nose with just earlier. 

_ Cinnamon and honey,  _ he thought, his mouth completely dry. 

“Hello,” he managed to choke out, feeling rather like an idiot and then clearing his throat. 

"Hi,"she smiled sweetly. "You see, my friend over there who works at the bar? Curly blond hair? He asked me to come in here and check if everything was up to your standards. Is the Three Broomsticks treating you okay?"

“Fairly well,” said James, feeling his chest swell. “Though there is one thing you could do for me?”

"Oh yeah? What would that be? I'm happy to help," the redhead said. Her grin was teasing and James felt rather like he were participating in the most interesting game of Quidditch he’d ever played. "You don't mind if I sit, do you?"

“No, not at all,” said James. He couldn’t imagine a better position for her to be in. “But I was just wondering about your name, actually. I would be a whole lot better if I could have your name.”   
“Lily, Lily Evans. Now, why would my name help you, Mr…?”

“Potter,  _ James  _ Potter,” he said extending his hand and grinning broadly as she took it. Her hand was small, but a perfect fit, and the smoothness of her skin contrasted against his own calloused fingers. If her looks were like lighting, her touch was like a static shock. “And it helps me because it is the first step to getting to know you. Which I’d very much like to do.”

"Pleasure," Lily said, her lips curling up as she pronounced the 'p' in the most lovely way. Her features dissolved as she turned to Sirius in a friendly, yet much more dismissive manner, and added, "And you are?"

“Completely ignored, apparently,” scoffed Sirius, and James could tell that he was both miffed and amused by the situation. “But please, do go ahead. I think I’ll just go chat up a few birds by the bar. Perhaps one of your friends would actually be interested in my name.”

James watched as Sirius stood, giving James a wink that he was certain Lily caught too before heading over towards the bar. He only felt  _ slightly  _ guilty. After all, this had been their mission, hadn’t it? To find a bird that he would be comfortable taking to the Christmas party. And he was  _ more  _ than comfortable with the thought of Lily Evans being on his arm. 

Or  _ anywhere  _ else with him.

"So James, now that your friend has oh so graciously left you all for myself, how do you propose we get to know each other better?" she asked, her elbows on the desk as she leaned forward towards him. 

“Alright, how about a round of  _ truth, _ ” he said, before taking a swig of his Firewhiskey for confidence. When he spoke next his voice sounded gruff from the burning of the alcohol. “Single?”

"Very."

“Same,” he grinned. “Your turn.”

"All is fair in love and war. True or False?"

James paused for a brief moment, swirling his mug around as he thought. “Hmm,  _ true.” _

"Good answer," she said smiling. "I'll give you one more question. Make it count, James Potter."

“One more, eh? Okay, now think over this carefully because it’s  _ very  _ important,” he said, pausing for dramatics and draping an arm across the back of her chair. “How do you feel about Quidditch?”

She smiled fully, and it was the brightest damn thing he’d ever seen. "You mean the greatest sport in the world? I feel  _ fantastic _ about it. Don't need to think over it very much."

James grinned. He  _ liked  _ this girl. “Lily Evans, would you like to head back to my place?” 

"Yeah, I think I'd like that very much.” 

And she stood, making her way out of the booth, and pausing to take his hand in hers. 

And when their fingers intertwined he forgot momentarily about the nameless broom in his back pocket. 

_ Tunnel vision,  _ he thought, allowing her to lead him into the night. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait on this chapter! We worked really hard on it! You can follow us both as the-castle-crew too if you'd like!
> 
> PLEASE don't forget to comment!
> 
> Also, this is just a note to all of my (alrightginger) readers. I am going to be posting the same author's note to every new story update so if you follow more than one of my works, you can skip it! I got a rather rude comment that said my works were hard to follow because of the time it takes to update. I love each and every one of my readers, but I want to be clear that I have two kids and a family. My writing schedule and updates revolve around them entirely and I'm not willing to change that. If you follow me on tumblr, I can do my best to provide you with update schedules but with my son learning to walk things have been crazy! Thanks to each and every one of you that have been understanding about that!
> 
> I wanted to include this with my co-authored works too because they are being so kind with my (lack of) schedule and any wait time you guys receive on this story is due to me.

 

 

 

**CHAPTER TWO**

James' flat was  _not_ beautiful bird proof.

Which was awfully inconvenient because he didn't remember that small fact until his hand was  _already_ on the doorknob, refusing to remember how to turn the damn thing, while Lily Evans was standing over his shoulder, looking at him curiously.

"Well, you have a lovely hallway, Potter. Really. It's very cozy," Lily said, sighing as though she were bored.

"Okay," he said, twisting the knob and pushing the door open just barely, "the thing is, I'm not exactly sure what sort of state this place is going to be in."

"That's alright," she smiled coyly, shrugging her small, freckled shoulders. "I'll be keeping my eyes on other things, anyway," she said with a wink.

James was certain that there was a tinge of pink coloring his face.  _Merlin,_ this girl was a smooth talker. But a sort of ease washed over him at her words, flowing and prickling at his spine, coming out in the beginnings of a grin that he hadn't worn since Hogwarts. It was  _easy_ with this girl.

"Just watch where you step," he said, still grinning. "And, uh,  _ignore_ Sirius' opinion of artwork. I thought his muggle posters were just a phase while rebelling against his folks, but apparently not. Roommates," he shrugged. "At least he manages to pay his half of the rent."

Lily crossed the threshold, her heels echoing loudly across the wooden floor. "Not a fan of muggle paraphernalia, are you?" she asked, her wide green eyes sweeping the place.

James' flat was modest in size. Most of the furniture had been gifted to him by his mum after she had re-furnished Potter Manor so it was broken in and comfortable. Honestly, he had been the only one to lounge about on the brown leather sofa when it had been at his parents' house anyway, so it seemed fitting that it now took up the center of his living room. It was nearly worn out on his favorite spots, and it would have been nearly as hard to part with as his dear old mum when he moved out.

Thankfully she had agreed to let him take it.

"I didn't say that," he said, leaning against the doorway, and watching her take everything in. "Muggles have loads of useful things. Whoopie cushions, for example, were particularly useful to me in school."

_And two weeks ago at work with Jorkins,_ he thought to himself.

"Figures that would be the thing you'd like," she teased, rolling her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he laughed. He crossed the room to where she stood, watching her turn to face him, her nose wrinkling as she grinned. She really was so lovely.

"That you're a boy!" she exclaimed, seemingly accusing him, but she did it with the prettiest smile.

"I'm hardly a boy. Childish maybe, but I'm afraid I haven't been a boy in quite some time."

She took a deep breath, her bright eyes leaving his face to follow his frame up and down. They lingered a bit here and there and he could swear her cheeks were tinged with pink. "I guess you're right," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. "You're not a boy at all.

James shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and ran hand through his hair. He hadn't been looked at properly by a woman in so long that he wasn't entirely sure if he remembered how to play the flirting game. Should he look back? No, he thought. That would probably lead to him getting smacked if he let his eyes wander to the wrong sorts of places.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked after a moment too long. His voice sounded higher pitched, as though he had forgotten to hit puberty years ago. "I've got Butterbeer and Firewhiskey?"

"I'll take a Firewhiskey, thank you," she answered.

James used the distraction of getting drinks to allow himself to pull it together. Lily Evans was entirely out of his league, but he was James Potter. He was never one to back down from a challenge. No matter how idiotic or ill laid it was. Somewhere - deep, deep down there - was buried a man who remembered the how to's of dating and wooing a woman.

Though he felt like he should have tried to access that person  _before_ stumbling across Lily Evans in a bar.

"Here you go," he said, handing her the chilled bottle. Their fingers brushed in the slightest fluid movement, and the different texture of her skin against his almost made him forget  _she_  was the one who was supposed to fall in love with  _him_. "Have a seat." He gestured towards the sofa. " _This_ is my favorite sofa, I'll have you know, Evans. It's where I spent most of my summers wallowing in my teenage angst. Mum was nearly as happy to see it move out as she was me." He  _has_ lost it, he thinks. Or, perhaps, he never really had it. Honestly, wooing a woman with a couch. He should have taken Sirius up on those lessons he had offered him before they left the flat, even if he had only been joking when he offered them.

Lily doesn't seem to notice. Or, at least, she doesn't seem to  _mind_ as she smiled in thanks, taking a small sip of her drink.. The thing she did seem to notice, however, was the contrast of their skin just as he had, because she put the whiskey bottle down, taking his hand in both of hers. "You've got calloused hands," she said, running the tips of her fingers across his palm. "What do you do for a living?"

James watched as his hand twitched in her own, curling and uncurling at her touch. It was hard to feel self-conscious about his hands with the way she was practically stroking them. "I design racing brooms for Cuffe and Company. It can be a bit rough on the hands."

"You're kidding me," she said, her eyes lighting up. "My broom is from them!"

James' own eyes widened behind his glasses. " _You fly?"_

"Of course. Very few things are like it. Don't you fly?" she asked, a puzzled look on her face.

"Yes," he said, as she untangled her hand from his, causing his fingers to flex on their own accord from the lost contact. "Well, I used to. I played on the team when I was in school. Even managed to Captain it my last two years. Now I mostly just design them. I guess that I was just surprised that a girl like you could - "

"A girl like me?" She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "What makes you think I can't fly, Potter?"

"I've just never had much...ah,  _experience_ with girls who actually enjoyed brooms and flying. That's all," he said, his mind flashing back to Jorkins and her too-tight-for-a-broom-skirt.

"Alright," she said, seeming to forgive him. She leaned back into his couch, crossing her legs, and allowing her features relaxed. "I'm actually not that good at  _playing_  though," she gestured with her hands in a resigned sort of way. "What position did you play in school?"

"Chaser," he said, hoping his tone wasn't giving away how almost bitter he felt over the past of it all. "But that was a long time ago. Too long ago to count for much of anything now. Now I just design the brooms that new Chasers are able to use." He paused for a moment, taking a swig of his Firewhiskey, and letting it burn before speaking again. "What do you do? Your hands are far too soft to be handling brooms all day."

Perhaps he was being a bit too forward, but the feeling of her fingers still lingered against his hand despite of the chill of the bottle he was clutching.

"Yep, you're right. I handle pages," she answered. "I write for Witch Weekly."

"Witch Weekly." He tried desperately not to grin, but failed at the thought of Jorkins smacking him with the magazine just hours ago. He took a sip of his drink hoping that it would cover the laugh threatening to bubble over. "Largest women's magazine in the country. Saving the world one hot-n-bothered spell at a time, eh?"

"Hey!" she called out indignantly. "I know the magazine can be a bit...superficial in its contents,  _but_  I only have to write these things for a while, okay? I was top of my class, and if I do things the way my boss wants me to for a bit, she'll let me write about whatever I want," she announced confidently.

"Things like what?"

"Things like politics, society, economy, education, and wizard vs. muggle issues!" she gestured, excitedly, eyes shining. "There's so much to talk about, and wizarding media hasn't given it much space!"

"You think  _your_  readers are really going to be interested in that sort of stuff?" James regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, mentally kicking himself as she let out a scoff that turned into a laugh. "I mean  _I_ would definitely be interested in reading that, but I just can't imagine your certain... _demographic_ would be. That sort of stuff seems more geared towards  _Prophet_ readers."

"Merlin, you sound  _just_ like Rita. My boss," she said, her elbow moving to rest on the back of the couch as she propped up her chin. "And don't worry, Potter, you don't have to look like you just accidentally killed my cat… I guess you're right, in the sense that these aren't the stories we usually tell. But we'll never know if they're interested or not unless we give them the option. You gotta give people a chance," she shrugged, smiling softly.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I mean, that's the whole reason we're sitting on this couch together right now, isn't it? Because we gave each other a chance?"

"Yes, it is."

James wasn't sure who moved first. Whether it was her placing a hand on his thigh, or him leaning in so that he could nearly count the freckles that were scattered across her face, but soon their lips were brushing, hesitant at first and then with more rhythm and sureness.

And whether it was the fact that his skin was roughened from years of Quidditch or the fact that hers was so incredibly soft after a lifetime of him only touching wooden broom handles, James felt something shift. Whether it was in the living room of his flat or a million miles away, he wasn't certain.

But what he did know was that kissing Lily Evans was better than Firewhiskey. Better than any prank he had ever played. Better than flying itself.

Kissing her was like falling. Like the moment of going into a dive and not being sure if you will be able to pull up before meeting the ground.

Kissing her was...moving entirely too fast, he thought as her hands started to work on the buttons of his shirt.

"Wait, wait," he said, sounding pained and pushing her away by her shoulders. If kissing her was like falling, stopping was like crashing to earth and falling flat on his arse. "This isn't - this isn't how I want this to go."

"Hm, it  _isn't_  ?" she said, leaning away and frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I mean - it's not that it wasn't  _nice..._ I mean it was nice! But it was also  _better_  than nice, and I just don't want to go too fast too soon. I want to save some of the  _nice bits_ for later. Not nearly three in the morning when I'm certain my best mate is about to stumble in drunk off his arse and ruin everything."

_Merlin,_ he was rambling and just couldn't stop. There was nothing more mood killing than word vomit, James thought. Well, word vomit and practically shoving a bird off off you.

"Oh, okay…" she said, smiling but not looking entirely convinced. But before James could open his mouth and further embarrass himself, Lily stood, straightening her dress and running a hand through her long hair. "It  _is_  late. Maybe I should head home then."

"Yeah, late," said James lamely, standing slowly and nearly regretting his own words. "Alright then. Let me just walk you to the door."

James watched her as they walked the long twenty seconds towards his front door, regarding her body language and wishing desperately he actually  _knew_ a bit more about women as he did about brooms. Not that they were nearly the same thing, but he knew when a broom was off by the way it vibrated. He wasn't sure what it meant that Lily was smiling at him so sweetly after he had shot her down, or that she was leaning so casually against his wall as she peered up at him.

"You know, you were probably right," she said, reaching up to fix the buttons of his shirt. "It probably was too fast. I really want you to respect me, you know."

"I do," he said, swallowing as she trailed her hands slowly down his chest. "I respect you."

"Good," she grinned. "So long as we're on the same page."

"Of course."

She smiled up at him, wrinkling her nose in a way that reminded him of a cat. "Goodnight, James Potter."

"Goodnight, Lily Evans."

* * *

Lily's mahogany writing desk was rattled by Marlene's backside perching itself on top of it, the impact shaking the ink pot she was using to write a few notes.

"So," her friend started, cocking her head in a inquisitive way and arching her eyebrows. "How was it? Tell me everything!"

"There's not much to tell…" Lily answered.

"What do you mean ' _there's not much to tell?'_  You left with him!" Marlene said, her voice growing slightly louder. Lily was aware of Hannah Davis' eyes, from the table beside her, turning wider at Marlene's outburst. Thankfully sweet Hannah wasn't a gossip.

"You two!" Alice's came voice from two tables over. "I see what you're doing. Not another word without me, alright?" The small brunette jabbed her finger threateningly in her friends' direction.

"Come on over, Al," Lily laughed, knowing she couldn't escape the interrogation. Alice finished typing a sentence on her typewriter with quick dexterity before pushing her chair over to Lily's desk, where the three women sat huddled together.

"Okay, you can spill now," said Alice.

Lily sighed. "Look, I don't know what to say… I mean, he's fit-"

" _Really_  fit!" Alice interjected, bouncing in her seat.

"Oh, yeah. You can thank me for that," said Marlene smugly.

"And he seems like a nice guy, you know? I feel a bit bad for stringing him along."

"Are you sure you're up to this, though?" questioned Marlene, frowning. "I mean, this thing…it's not really your style."

"I know," she agreed, leaning back in her seat and groaning. "But it's not like being  _Miss Nice_  has taken me anywhere in life. Besides, this might actually help people," she rationalized.

"I know, I know. I support you, darling," Marlene assured her. "I'm just making sure you don't get in way over your head. But, continue! Tell us more about fit spectacles."

"He works for Cuffe and Company, designing brooms."

"That's your favorite brand! Oh Merlin, he may have designed your broom!" Alice commented. "Smart lad."

"Yeah, I know," said Lily, smiling. "He took me to his apartment and we talked and kissed!"

"Nice!" Marlene cried, while Alice squealed excitedly behind her.

" _But_  I'm not quite sure it went all that well," the redhead grimaced.

"What do you mean?" Alice asked, furrowing her brow.

"Well, I tried to charm him-"

"Seemed to be working pretty well down at the pub."

"And I was my most flirty self-"

"You're an amazing flirt."

"And he  _seemed_  interested! At least, I thought he was. And, as I said, we  _did_  kiss, but then all of a sudden, he stopped," Lily finished, causing all three girls to exchange curious looks.

"He  _stopped?"_ repeated Marlene, leaning in towards Lily as though she hadn't heard her right. "Just... _stopped?"_

"Oh Merlin, what if I'm a bad kisser?" she wondered.

"Have you had any complaints before?" Marlene asked, in a no-nonsense tone.

"Well, no."

"Then you're not a bad kisser," she said, grabbing and holding Lily's hands in hers. "Men are just weird. That's why I usually prefer women."

"Meh, women are kinda weird too, Marley," Lily said, giving her friend's hand a squeeze.

"So not my point."

"Do you think we'll ever find out what's his deal?" Alice asked.

"Oh, yeah," Lily answered with a little knowing smile. As if on cue, a pair of long - very  _male_  - legs appeared in Witch Weekly's newsroom. The unidentified man's top form was obscured by a huge bouquet of assorted flowers, an elegant display of roses, lilies, carnations and Peruvian lilies in variant hues of pink, and it was moving towards Lily.

"I have a delivery for a Ms. Evans." The voice was thrown in a mock delivery boy fashion, but Lily was able to make out the mischief in the tone, knowing immediately who it was before his head peaked around the massive display of flowers, allowing Lily to see a pair of spectacles and a near blinding grin. James Potter was full of surprises himself, it seemed. "It is  _Ms._ Evans, isn't it?"

"Luckily for you, yes, it is," Lily answered a bright, full smile creeping up on her features. She couldn't help it. He was adorable. "Are these for me?" she asked, standing up to take the bouquet he was offering, placing it gently on her desk after smelling them.

"Of course," he answered, flicking a stray petal out of his hair "But they're not the only reason I'm here."

"They're not?"

" _This_  is actually the reason I came," he said, pulling her pearl earring out of his pocket. "I found it on the couch this morning."

Lily reached out, taking the pearl gently from his fingers. "Oh, thank you so much! I thought it was gone and I was so sad," she said running a hand over her bare earlobe and smiling softly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Marlene, who hopped from the desk and now stood behind James' back, mouthing the words " _you're a pro!"_  "You could have sent an owl, though. You didn't have to come all this way."

"I know I didn't  _have_ to, but I wanted to," he said, not aware of what was going on behind him. "I also took it as fate, you see, because I just so happen to have two tickets to tonight's Harpies vs. Puddlemere match and find myself without a date."

"Two tickets to the Harpies! How exciting. Any idea who you'd like to take?" she teased.

"Why, you, my lady," he said, bowing grandly in front of her and causing her to giggle. He really was incredibly charming.  _Dorky._ But charming. "If you're available, that is," he continued, taking the tickets out of his back pocket and presenting them to her.

"Then I think you may have found yourself a date, Mr. Potter," she answered, taking one of the brightly laminated papers from his hand and winking.

"Excellent," he grinned, straightening to his full height so Lily had to peer up at him. "Meet me at my flat at 9 a.m. Oh! It's supposed to get a bit chilly so bring a coat. I'm rubbish at warming charms. Unless you'd rather I'd warm you up myself, of course, Evans. That's always on the table," James said with a smirk as he walked out of the office, leaving a blushing Lily and a gaggle of giggling co-workers.

"Oh my Merlin, Lils. He's so cute!" Alice commented.

"Well done, Evans," Marlene congratulated and walked back to her desk slowly, savoring the moment as if it were her own.

"Who was that?" Lucinda asked, her eyes wide as she got up from her chair and ran to Lily's side. "Oh no, Lily," the woman said, realization dawning on her. "Don't tell me he's…but he's so charming and handsome!"

"He is, isn't he?" Lily said, much more to herself than as an answer to Lucinda. "It's a shame I'm gonna have to crush him. I'm going to make him wish he was dead."

* * *

"I'm telling you, Pads. This girl is  _amazing._ She's clever, funny,  _gorgeous. And!_ She likes Quidditch!"

"Congrats on finding a bird who can tell one end of a broom from the other."

Sirius was bored. James could tell by the way his eyes had glazed over thirty minutes ago, and he had slumped over their couch dramatically. But James didn't care that Sirius had grown possibly catatonic at his words. In fact, it was probably better that way because he had been able to drone on about Lily Evans for nearly an hour now.

Which is all he seemed to want to do.

At least before the match.

_Especially_ before the match.

He really didn't want to look like a love sick fool just yet in front of her.

"Honestly, if I'd never agreed to this stupid bet I wouldn't have met her."

"Just remember that  _that's_ what's important here."

James blinked, confused. "What?"

"The bet, you dolt!" Sirius nearly shouted, propping himself up on his elbows. "If you don't get this girl to fall in love with you, we'll lose the account!"

"That's not going to happen," James reassured him. "She's already halfway in love with me. I can tell."

_And I'm more than halfway in love with her,_ thought James.

" _Can you?"_ Sirius didn't bother to keep the skepticism dripping from his voice. "Because all I've heard for the past  _hour_ is about how  _wonderful_ this girl is. How impossibly  _amazing_ she is. It's like you've forgotten that  _she's_ the one who is supposed to fall in love with  _you._ You're turning into a love-sick-idiot! It's only been like a  _day_  since you've met her!"

"Don't be ridiculous -"

" _Am I_ though? Have you even looked at the broom design since you've met this girl? Or thought about the account?"

"I  _just_ met her! It's been literally a day! Forgive me if I haven't stared longingly at a piece of parchment for twenty-four hours while I'm trying to win this bet  _for_ the broom on that parchment!"

"Sure, Prongs," Sirius scoffed. "Talk me to like I haven't known you since you were eleven. You," he pointed an accusing finger which James crossed his eyes at, "have a one track-mind when you're excited about something. And you sure as hell seem excited about that redhead…"

"Her name is  _Lily,"_ growled James. "And I haven't lost my focus, honestly. I know what's at stake here and why this bet is so important, but is it really so bad that I've found a girl that I wouldn't  _mind_ actually making her fall in love with me?"

Sirius ran a hand through his long hair and then pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh. "No, it isn't. It really isn't. And on normal circumstances, I'd be more than happy for you. But you met her because you made a bet with the she-devil, and I think it's got disaster written all over it. Just…be careful, alright? I don't want to see you get hurt."

James relaxed, his jaw unclenching as he rubbed his unshaved jawline. "I know it's not... _ideal,_ and I know you're just looking out for me.  _And_ the account. But I know what I'm doing, trust me."

Sirius raised an eyebrow in skepticism, but a knock at the door cut off his next remark.

Lily was here.

"Please," groaned James, walking to the door. "Just try to act at least a  _bit_ polite, and not like the dog you are."

"I make no promises," said Sirius, though he sat up a bit straighter. "I break less hearts that way."

"One would argue you break  _more_ hearts that way," grumbled James before opening the door and smiling brightly. He  _was_ a fool and maybe a bit unfocused. But it was hard to focus on anything other than Lily Evans, who was standing on the other side of his door wearing an over sized Holyhead Harpies dark green jumper and a pair of tight muggle jeans.

"Hey!" she beamed at him from where she leaned on the door frame. "I hope I'm not too early. I was excited for today."

"You're right on time," he grinned, gesturing for her to come in. "Come on in. This is my roommate, Sirius. You met briefly."

Sirius, for all purposes, had managed to take James' words to heart a bit. He looked less bored, at least, as he saluted Lily.

"Evans," greeted Sirius. "Nice to see you again."

"Wow, you remembered my name. Nice memory," she said, nodding. "It's good to see you too."

"Of course I remembered it," snorted Sirius, rolling his eyes. "It's all I've heard for the past -"

"Would you like a drink?!" cried James, moving to stand between them to block Sirius from Lily's view as he smiled as charmingly as he could. As out of practice as he was when it came to women, his smile had not grown any less bright thanks to years of having to charm the trousers off his clients. "I have Butterbeer here, but if you'd like something  _stronger_ we can head on over to the match. I'm afraid Sirius drank the last of the Firewhiskey."

"Trying to get me drunk, Potter?" Lily frowned in a jokingly manner. "I thought you said you wanted to take this slow…" she teased with a purse of her lips. "It's alright, I think we best get on to the match, if you don't mind."

"Brilliant," agreed James, throwing a bird in Sirius' direction while Lily adjusted an over sized sleeve of her jumper. "I wouldn't mind at all."

* * *

Apparition was one of those things that would always feel magical to Lily. So what if her landing wasn't always graceful and her stomach felt a bit queasy? Disappearing and then appearing somewhere completely different would never stop being a novelty to her.

They materialized on the apparition point, a grass field in Wales next to the Quidditch Pitch - Lily trying to mask her lack of balance by holding onto James' arm - and started walking towards it. There was already a good crowd of Harpies and Puddlemere fans alike, a mix of vivid greens and deep blues chanting songs and congregating near the food stands.

"How often do you come to the matches?" she asked James as they handed over their wands to security at the entrance. "Do you get to just have fun, or do you regard flying with a clinical eye?"

"A bit of both," he said, nodding a greeting to someone across the crowd. "Since we landed the Harpies' account I'll attend all the matches to sort of gage their needs, and chart how they fly. What makes them handle a broom differently, and try to cater to that. But honestly, it's a lot of fun, even if it is work."

"It's nice that you're able to do what you love," she said as they climbed the stairs towards their seats. "You never told me what you ride." she added with a smirk.

"Oh, well, I designed her myself," he said, ruffling his hair. His grinned lingered as they took their seats, and she wondered if the pink tint on his cheeks would brighten if she tried to kiss it off. "I just call her Elvendork. Well, Sirius called her that and it sort of stuck. She's the only one in existence, not another one like her on the market."

"Wow," she widened her eyes at him, truly impressed. "Guess you'll have to show me one day."

"Of course," he said so earnestly that she giggled. Lily suspected that the broom was somewhat like his child, the way he beamed over it like a proud dad. "Did you grow up playing Quidditch? I got my first broom before I could even walk."

"Oh no. I learned about Quidditch at Hogwarts. I'm muggleborn," she said, preparing to gauge his reaction. It would mean a lot to her.

"Oh, wow! That's brilliant!" And the way he said it - turning in his chair to look at her as though seeing her for the first time, his eyes lit up - made her believe that it really  _was_ brilliant. That  _she_ was brilliant. Which was something she wasn't used to since she stepped foot into this world. "I took muggle studies in school, and loved it. I did my end of term project on film and basically just recorded my mates doing stupid stuff. Peter, one of my mates from school, broke his ankle because we dared him to jump out of a second floor window. Got it all on film."

"Oh my God, Potter, you're a menace!" she squealed, throwing her head back in full blown laughter, her fingers curling around his forearm.

"There aren't enough muggleborn players in the league, you know. I'd love to get your report's opinion on that sometime. Maybe on our next date?" he asked, his eyebrows arching in an adorably hopeful look.

"Of course," she smiled genuinely. As if it wasn't all fake. And when he smiled back at her, all charming and lopsided, with a dimple in his left cheek, she forgot, just for a moment, that this relationship was built on a foundation of  _How To's_ and career opportunities. Lily's mind slipped, carrying her into the possibility of something  _real._

But the moment passed as quickly as it came with the booming of a voice over the stadium speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the match of the season! The Holyhead Harpies verses Puddlemere United!"

The commentator's interruption had broken Lily out of her spell, his voice echoing from his wand as he sat so high up in the stands that Lily had to crane her head uncomfortably to catch a glimpse of him.

"Look now," said James, excitedly. He was pointing downwards towards the pitch where the players were mounting their brooms. "Excellent. It's windy today too. I haven't had a chance to really see how they fly in these conditions. Cuffe will eat this up. This will give me a leg up over  _Jorkins."_

"Who's Jorkins?" Lily asked, curious. She hadn't heard him use that derisive tone for anyone or anything before. Granted, she had only known him for a day, but he didn't seem like the type to use a ridiculing tone lightly.

"She's my competition at work," grumbled James. He looked fidgety and frustrated, Lily noticed as he rocked around in his seat. "More like worst enemy. We're going head to head for this account, but I bet you she's not even at this game."

The players were kicking off, rising high into the air. The referee was releasing the locks on the crate, and James leaned forward as the four balls flew wildly into the air.

"I didn't realize you were competing with anyone for it," she said, but the movement of the balls and the players up in the air caught her eye and she looked away from him. "I hope you win, then," she wished sincerely, a last comment as she rested her elbows on her knees and trained her green eyes on the zooming figures, already following the game.

"Don't worry, Evans. I've got this under control," he said, and Lily didn't have to look at him to know from the smugness of his tone that he was grinning. "Shoot," he grumbled, standing. "I can't see the snitch anywhere. Can you?"

"No, I really can't," she answered honestly. "You should probably sit, though, before the people in the back row start complaining," she laughed, pulling at the back of his jumper. Before he could fully sit though, an idea formed in her mind. She looked at the thin young man who was a couple of stands away as she put the plan in motion.

"James?" she called.

"Yes?" asked James, his eyes squinting across the pitch.

"They're selling Omnioculars over there," she pointed at the vendor. "Maybe you could buy them, so we see the snitch."

James blinked, tearing his eyes away from the game with great effort. "That's brilliant," he said, his face brightening. "Oi!" He waved his arms signaling the saleswizard. "Two over here!"

The saleswizard seemed to take his time making it over to them. He was tall and gangly, making him look as though he was struggling with the weight of the cart piled with Omnioculars.

"That'll be ten Galleons each," said the wizard, the start of a yawn tugging at his lips.

James paid for the Omnioculars, sitting down next to Lily and grinning. "He certainly seems to enjoy his job, yeah?"

"Poor boy," she laughed, watching the wizard retreat up the stairs. "At least he's not writing articles on which shade of lipstick empowers you."

"And which shade is that for you then?"

"Ruby red, duh," she said without missing a beat. "My skin tone is warm, but my hair is a darker red so I need something that offsets it."

James blinked. "That's a lot of thought process behind some lipstick."

"Just knowing what works for me, Potter," she said, grinning. "Gotta look pretty to convince Rita to publish my articles!" She looked into the Omnioculars, slowing the speed down so she could perfectly see the outline of a little snitch fluttering above the stands across from them. But he didn't need to know that. "James, I think something is wrong with these."

"What do you mean?"

He was skimming the players intently, a gust a wind gostling his hair.

"I can't see a thing," she said, poking him on the shoulder with the omniocular to claim his attention. She made sure to frown her eyebrows in confusion and put her pretty green eyes to their best use as she tragically informed him "It's all blurry!"

James lowered his Omnioculars from his eyes, looking like it took a great deal of effort on his part. "What do you mean it's all blurry? Mine are working just fine."

"I don't know what's wrong. Can you have a look?" she asked, poking his - admittedly impressive - shoulders with the Omnioculars again and offering them to him. She took care to readjust them with a slight roll of her finger as she handed him the cylindrical object, turningher focus back on the game just as Carol Danvers stole the Quaffle from David Smith.

"Oh, yeah, sure thing." He took them from her, offering her a smile that wasn't quite annoyed. Not just yet. She would have to change that soon. "I think you're just zoomed in too far," he said, adjusting the dial. "They're a bit tricky to get used to at first. That should do it though."

There was a sudden angry roar from the crowd the moment James handed Lily back her Omnioculars, and Lily, spotting a quarrel breaking out between a Beater from Puddlemere and a Chaser from the Harpies, let her Omnioculars slip from her hands the moment they touched her fingers.

"Oops, I swear I can be so clumsy sometimes!" she said, leaning her body on his, making sure to disrupt his vision a bit as she retrieved the fallen device from floor near his feet.

"I haven't noticed," James answered, a strain in his voice as he saw Puddlemere's Chaser prepare for the the penalty, but he gave her another smile, though this one less charming.

Lily could have been frustrated with his excessive politeness, but then she brought the Omnioculars to her eyes, and she saw it first. She knew she did, because his posture was easy and relaxed. If he had seen Cordelia Ford, Harpies star Seeker, locate the Snitch, his whole body would tense.

"Oh no!" she sighed dramatically. "James, could you have a look at it again? I think it got jumbled when I dropped it."

" _Again?"_ And  _there's_ the tone she was looking for. The tension lacing his voice, his octave half rising as he looks at her, eyes slightly wide. "I mean - of course. Of course I'll have another look."

It happened the moment that he turned fully towards her, and Lily didn't have to look away from his frustrated brow to know that the seekers were diving for the snitch. She could hear it in the cheering of the crowd, the way people were standing to catch a better look.

"Look, she's almost got it!" cried a boy from behind them, pointing wildly towards the pitch.

"Got what!" shouted James above the roar, dropping Lily's Omnioculars this time on his own accord as he stood too. "What's happened!"

" _Ford has the snitch! Ford has the snitch! The Harpies win the match in an incredible turn around!"_ The booming voice from the commentator announced, as if he'd heard James' question. He looked over at Lily like he was searching for an answer, but she just cheered loudly and smiled brightly, jumping around in celebration of a double victory - The Harpies' and her own - as she registered the shock on James' face when he realized she'd seen it all through the lenses of his own borrowed Omnioculars.

"Oh Merlin! What a fantastic game! Unbelievable!" she yelled while high-fiving a kid from the row above. She jumped on his arms, her hug not giving him any time to recover as she squeezed his body and subsequently cut him loose from contact to stare into his face and declare with a faux sad face "And that catch? Ford was brilliant! It's too bad you missed it."


End file.
